The prison was a foreboding structure, with thick stone walls that rose high into the air. Heavily armed soldiers, who kept a watchful eye on all who entered and left, guarded the entrance.

“Good day, esteemed guardsmen,” King Alexander greeted them with a regal nod. “On this day, we undertake an inspection of the prison, and perchance engage in discourse with certain inmates. I kindly request your help in this endeavor.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” one guard replied, bowing respectfully. “We shall serve as your escorts, leading you to the warden who will guide you through the prison, offering a comprehensive tour of the premises and addressing any inquiries you may possess.”

“I express my gratitude, for thy help we sincerely appreciate,” the king replied graciously.

The prison yard was a bleak and barren place, surrounded by high walls made of grey stone, a large, open space with no vegetation or signs of life. The ground was dry, and the only sound heard was the occasional clanging of metal as the guards move about their duties. Cramped cells lined the perimeter of the yard. Prisoners dressed in tattered clothing shuffled aimlessly around the yard, their heads bowed in resignation. The air was thick with the stench of human waste and despair.

A guard led the king and his entourage through the prison yard to the warden's office. The path was narrow and lined with tall stone walls, giving the impression of a maze. The dampness of the air was suffocating, and the smell of mold and mildew was overpowering.

Upon reaching the warden’s office, the guard knocked on the door and announced their arrival. The door opened to reveal a stout, balding man with a stern expression on his face. He introduced himself as Warden Malcom, his voice gruff and authoritative.

“Greetings within these prison walls, your majesty,” he spoke, his gaze fixed upon the king’s. “In what manner may I be of help to you today?”

“How many prisoners doth our realm currently hold?” inquired the king.

The warden said, “Presently, Your Highness, we have 18 prisoners within these confines. Would you care for a tour to observe the facilities?”

Alexander nodded, hiding his contempt for the prison conditions.

He took in the sight of the cramped cells and the prisoners within. He noticed a man with a crazed look in his eyes staring at him and muttering something unintelligible. The king walked up to him and asked, “For what offenses dost thou stand accused?”

The man glared at Alexander and snarled, “One last robbery... what a mistake. Oh... come to take enjoyment looking at prisoners... well go ahead. You wouldn’t last ten minutes in here!”

Alexander simply nodded and moved on, hearing the desperate pleas of “Release us, release us, release us!” while an anguished voice cried out, “Leave me be, I have endured torment aplenty!”

“Prison reform is an undeniable consideration for the future,” Alexander expressed to his advisors, “yet for the present moment, let us redirect our focus towards other pressing affairs.” With that, he turned and walked out of the prison yard.

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On the way out, he spotted a surly-looking man in one cell. The man’s eyes seem to glint with malice as he glared at the king and his companions.

Alexander turned to Malcolm and asked, “Pray tell, who is that individual?” casting his gaze upon the mysterious figure.

The warden studied the prisoner for a moment before responding, “That, your highness, is Torgar the Butcher. He is one of the most perilous criminals to have graced these walls. He bears responsibility for many heinous murders and has displayed an utter lack of remorse for his abominable deeds.”

Alexander nodded, his interest piqued. “Call him forth to a chamber for inquiry,” he said. “I wish to converse with him.”

The warden led King Alexander and his entourage to a small, dimly lit room in the prison's corner. The room was bare except for a wooden table and a couple of chairs. On a wall made of rough, gray stone, a single torch flickered.

“This be our chamber of questioning, Your Majesty,” the warden spoke as he motioned towards the table and seats. “It’s humble, yet it accomplishes its duty.”

Shortly thereafter, a few guards escorted Torgar to the chamber and shackled him to the chair across the table from where Alexander sat waiting. “What defense dost thou offer for thyself?” he asked the prisoner.

Torgar sneered at the king. “I ain’t jawin’ for you or any other silk-gloved high-born,” he spat.

Alexander’s face remained composed and stoic as he looked at the crazed man. “I find no utility in a rogue such as thyself within my realm,” he stated resolutely. “Yet, perchance, we could broker a deal. Provide me intelligence on the lawless factions in the vicinity, and I’ll ensure thou art spared the executioner’s axe for thy transgressions.”

Torgar’s face scrunched up slightly. His eyes narrowed. “And what’s keeping ye from backstabbing on your word?” he asked.

Alexander smiled slightly. “My pledge is my covenant,” he proclaimed. “And should thou consent to collaborate, thou might just discover that existence can prove more favorable within these walls than beyond them.”

Torgar eyed the king warily, but eventually nodded his head in agreement. Alexander leaned in closer.

The man, Torgar, spoke, his eyes darting around the room nervously as he described a city-state called The Blackmarket in the north and its leader, Elmar. The king listened intently.

“What commodities are being peddled in this illicit marketplace?” he asked.

“Everythin’ and anythin’, Yer Lordship,” Torgar stuttered, a quiver touching his voice. “Arms, outlawed alchemic brews, slaves, just pick it. It’s a lair of sin and rottenness.”

King Alexander’s brow furrowed in concern. He knew such activities could lead to unrest and instability in his kingdom. “How do they conduct their affairs whilst evading detection?” he asked, his tone firm.

Torgar shrugged. “They’ve got their tricks, Yer Lordship. They palm off the right folks, grease the guards’ palms, and cloak their deeds real good. But folks up north, they’re hip to it, and it’s got ‘em spooked.”

The king nodded thoughtfully. “Gratitude for enlightening me on this matter, Torgar,” he said. “I am compelled to delve deeper into this issue and eradicate it before it inflicts further harm upon my subjects.”

Torgar nodded gratefully, looking slightly relieved, as the king motioned for the guards to remove him.

“My counsellors, we must act with alacrity to end this black market. I shall embark to probe into and halt this illicit conduct,” he said.

Old Croll spoke up, concern etched on his face. “But Sire, such a venture could court peril. I would counsel that we dispatch a contingent to scout the situation in advance.”

Alexander shook his head, his eyes flashing with determination. “Nay, I insist upon witnessing this firsthand. I shall accompany Bloud and a select cadre of our most formidable warriors for safeguarding.”

Old Croll bowed his head in deference. “As you decree, Sire. We shall strive to the utmost to guarantee your security.”

Haemon stepped forward, his eyes shining with readiness. “We shall start preparations for the expedition forthwith, sire.”

Alexander nodded firmly, his gaze unwavering. “We shall cease not until I extinguish this black market and haul its mastermind to the scales of justice.”